


Flaming Hair and the Maiden Fair

by hollyblacklannister



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-21 10:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11355546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblacklannister/pseuds/hollyblacklannister
Summary: I had hoped to wait an entire week before posting again - but I got too excited...





	1. Return to the North

     Brienne and Pod hastened their run towards Winterfell. Upon their return from Riverrun, they’d heard about the now-infamous Battle of the Bastards, and were anxious to know the fate of their friends. One particular fellow tugged at Brienne’s mind.

     Every interaction she’d had with the large redhead had been strange. The way he looked at her – was different than anyone else. Even her closest friends – people she professed to love didn’t look at her that way. She’d seen it before in other men towards women, but never toward her. Men would sometimes mimic it in jest, but she knew the intent behind their eyes. At first, she’d suspected this man to be the same, but whereas the others usually gave it up after a while, he continually stared.

     Before they’d left for Riverrun, he’d come to Castle Black’s armory while Brienne was cleaning Oathkeeper for her journey. She’d noticed him staring, but decided not to say anything about it. It was sometimes easier to ignore the gawkers than confront them, and she hadn’t the energy for such a conversation.

     He cleared his throat, and shifted his weight from one foot to another. “I hear ye’re being sent on a journey South?”

     “Yes. What of it?” She replied, not even looking up from her task.

     “I was wantin’ to wish ye luck in yer travels,” he said meekly. Brienne could tell, however that this was a man who was not normally mild-mannered.

     “I appreciate it,” she replied, curtly.

     “We’ll be goin’ South a bit to fight this Bolton fellow, but I don’t think where we’re goin’ is as South as where ye’re goin’” he said softly.

     “No, Pod and I will be traveling much further. Better to have a smaller party. Why are you so interested?” She finally looked toward him. For once, his gaze was averted to the ground.

     “I jus’ wanted to say good-bye and that I hope ye return safely,” he muttered.

     “Thank you. I hope the siege at Winterfell is successful as well,” Brienne sheathed her sword and stood to make her way out.

     His hazel eyes flickered upwards to meet hers. “And considerin’ that we both could die very soon, I want ye’ to know ye’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever looked upon.”

     Brienne could feel her face flushing. The wildling man was looking directly into her eyes, and where there should have been deceit, she saw nothing but honesty. “Thank you for your sentiments, ser, I really must be going.”

     She left him standing there, in the armory. Looking back on it, she should have kicked him to the ground then and there. But as she and Pod left the next morning, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret that she’d said nothing more. As they rode out the gates, she glimpsed the wildling once more. Per usual, his eyes bored into her, but this time, she returned his glance. She nodded to him. The poor man looked stunned. Still, a better note to leave on than the previous day.

     Over the many days and nights of their journey, Brienne agonized over the fate of the red-haired man. He was so likely to be dead. When she was sure Pod was asleep, she let a tear or two escape. She’d never earnestly been called beautiful before. She still didn’t believe it, but it was nice to hear.

     Their return had been quick and quiet. They’d made few stops, sailing inconspicuously much of the way, then finding a suitable pair of horses once they came to shore. Brienne wanted more than anything to fulfill her oath and ensure Sansa’s safety. But she also wanted to know of the wildling fellow.

     They were so close. Brienne had never seen Winterfell before, and didn’t know what to expect. But not even her worst nightmares could prepare her for what she was about to see.


	2. Hells on Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped to wait an entire week before posting again - but I got too excited...

     It looked like all seven hells in one. Thousands dead. Bodies broken and smashed, the ground soaked with blood. Immediately, Pod started retching from the stench. Brienne looked to the castle - Stark banners hung proudly from every tower: her charge was likely safe. She spurred her horse on, trying not to look for red hair amongst the corpses.

     As she passed, she could see survivors making their way to burn the stacks of bodies. Charred remains of the Bolton’s flayed men dotted the battlefield. Brienne didn’t envy them. Of the many ways to die, that had to be among the worst. How anyone could do that to another human being was unfathomable. She continued through the carnage, Pod behind her, both praying to the Seven, or whatever gods were responsible.

     When they approached the gates, they opened without question. They must have been expected. Brienne looked back to Pod, who was still looking a bit green. He gave a little nod, then slid off his horse to help her.

     “Thank you, Pod,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

     “You’re very welcome, my lady,” he replied.

     “We’ll not train tonight, I think you had better rest,” she told him, longing herself for a warm, soft bed. But there was work to be done.

     “Thank you, m’lady.”

     “Be ready to resume tomorrow morning. But take care of yourself first,” Brienne strode off towards the Great Hall.

     It wasn’t that she cared for the wildling fellow with the beard. Upon further reflection, she felt more and more certain that his flattery was not in earnest, but a joke like all the others. And the more she thought about it, the more hurt she became. She’d let her guard down, albeit briefly, and he had violated that trust. No matter, he would be kicked into the dust before long. But she didn’t want him to suffer too much in the process.

     Suddenly she found herself knocked into a huge hulking figure. Before she could react, it spun around and met her with a face full of shocking red hair.

     “Ye’re alive…” he said, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

     “Yes-,” she started.

     “I didn’t think I’d see ye again.”

     “Well, here we are.” Brienne sidestepped, his large paw reaching to touch her wrist.

     “I’m glad ye’re alive,” he said, still ashen.

     “As am I,” she paused. “I’m glad you survived,” she admitted, remaining stoic.

     “Really?” The Wildling asked.

     “You seem to be an effective commander, and you have the love of your people. I don’t know what they’d do without you,” she added.

     “I missed you-” he stuttered. “I mean, we – the…” Brienne raised an eyebrow.

     “Please excuse me,” she said, wanting to make a hasty exit. Men like him had never been good to her, and she would rather not have to get into another fight at this juncture.

     “I’m sorry to’ve startled ye,” he said, still holding her wrist. His hand felt good on her skin. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much she enjoyed his touch. “’S been a hard coupla days.”

     Brienne grunted in response, brushing him away. The man did nothing to stop her, just stared adoringly. “Name’s Tormund, by the way. As we’re both not dead, might be a good thing for ye to know.”

    “Thank you Tormund,” she muttered, wanting to get the courtesy out of the way before she felt she owed him anything else.

     “And yer name is?” he asked. Brienne couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t want to see him snicker and sneer like all the rest, especially when she’d started to let herself care for him.

     She sighed. “Brienne. Brienne of Tarth,” she responded, making an attempt at an exit.

     “Brienne. That’s a beautiful name, lass. Almost as beautiful as yerself.” Brienne turned herself to glare at the wildling, expecting to be met with a cruel smile. There was none. Just his gleaming eyes peeking out from under red, bushy brows.

     “What’re you playing at?” She asked, no longer feeling the need to beat around the bush. Best to get it over and done with.

     “Playing at?” he asked, incredulously.

     “Men only pay me compliments on my fighting, never my appearance, decorum, or name. And I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to embarrass me with flattery!” She spat – a little more forcefully than she meant.

     “Lass, ever’thing I said is true. I’ve ne’er seen a finer specimen of womanhood than yerself, and I thought ye ought t’ know.” Brienne could feel her face becoming more and more scarlet with his every word. “If ye were one of the Free Folk, scores of men’d be after ye.”

     Brienne looked down at her shoes. Every instinct was telling her he was lying, but he had nothing to gain by speaking falsely. “I am most assuredly not one of the Free Folk,” she replied.

     “Aye, but ye could be.” He brought his hand to her cheek as she blushed even deeper, and shifted her weight from one foot to another. She so desperately wanted to flee, but she also wanted him to continue. No man had ever spoken to her with such… unbridled affection before. Jamie had ultimately been kind, but his words were always teasing, never admiring.

     There was something different about this man, something she liked. He was very forward, which had its advantages, even though it baffled her. Brienne was about to look up into his eyes when:

     “Brienne!” The two broke apart at the sound of Sansa’s voice. “I had been hoping you would arrive today,” the girl ran to her sworn sword and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’ve missed having female company.” Sansa pulled back, and looked from one giant to another. “Thank you, Tormund for locating her for me.” The girl linked her arm in Brienne’s and led her away. Brienne looked back to see Tormund still standing there, awestruck.


	3. An Unfamiliar Longing

     “I see you’ve made a friend,” Sansa exclaimed over her tea.

     “My lady, I’m not sure whether I would refer to him as a-” Brienne started.

     “Brienne. You don’t need to pretend with me.”

     “I’m not pretending! I have no interest in his friendship whatsoever.” Sansa simply laughed. Brienne’s cheeks flushed. “Whatever are you laughing about?”

     “You, Brienne,” the girl smiled sweetly. “He likes you. He… he _wants_ you.”

     “No one wants me, Sansa. Men in particular,” she stared at the floor. “The most they want of me is to make a joke at my expense.”

     “He doesn’t,” Sansa sighed. “He would slaughter anyone who dared. I know. I used to be the biggest romantic there ever was,” Brienne turned to look at her charge. The girl looked sad, forlorn. Like she had lost something that was just out of reach. “You have a chance at something I only dreamed of having.”

     “Sansa…”

     “I don’t believe in love or romance anymore. And yet-” the girl looked up at Brienne with the most hopeful expression. “Perhaps you can prove me wrong.”

     Brienne smiled. The poor girl had lost so much in such a short time. “Sansa, you know that you are my first priority, I would do anything to protect you, even if it meant denying myself…”

     “Brienne, I want to see you happy. That would make me happy. I might be able to feel safe again, if I could but see that it is possible to love in this world. That it is possible to be happy. I’ve seen so much darkness, and you’ve helped me through so much. Show me that it isn’t all in vain. That someone will benefit for it.” Sansa sat sadly. “I used to have so much hope.”

     “But Sansa, I don’t know how,” Brienne confided, kneeling at Sansa’s side. It was true. She was a complete stranger to matters of the heart. All her love had been filial or one-sided. It had never been reciprocated at all- never mind with the sensual intensity of the wildling fellow with the beard.

     Sansa laughed again – a pretty sound: sincere, without the edge that it had come to know. “I don’t think he does either – at least not our way. You’ll have to figure this out for yourselves. Step by step. I look forward to seeing the results”

     “Results?” Brienne whispered, eyes wide.

     “There’s no need to be embarrassed. All couples look silly at the beginning. But that doesn’t matter,” Sansa paused. “And I will try to keep it quiet for you, though you should know I’m cheering you on.” Just when she thought she couldn’t get any redder, Brienne felt more color flood her cheeks and stood.

     “You’re giving me permission…”

     “If it helps, I’ll command it. You wouldn’t refuse a command from your lady, would you?” Sansa asked, a glint of playfulness in her eyes. Brienne swallowed, hard. If it were commanded of her, she was obliged to obey.


	4. Winners and Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update! I was house-sitting, then realized that a major point in this chapter didn't make ANY sense, so I had to edit again before posting...

     Tormund was almost giddy. He’d felt so little happiness in the last few years, that he was resigned to a life of fighting to survive. There was little love left in him. Then he met her- with skin the color of ice and eyes like the sky after a storm. She was cold towards him, but all the North was cold. And he was kissed by fire. It would be his job to melt her, and she would thaw him in turn.

     From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he was stunned. Never before had such a woman captured his heart. He’d had lovers before, of course; even one he’d truly adored before her life was snuffed out like a candle. But Brienne was strong. She could weather any storm. She could fight with the best of them. She would last through the winter, nay, thrive in it.

    Even the gentle curves of her hips and bust appealed to him, though she kept them well-hidden. Her body would easily carry his children, which most women’s could not. But she was unlike any of the women among the Free Folk, and wooing her would be different than anything he’d ever done before. Stealing her had been the first thing on his mind when he saw her, but she would have fought him tooth and nail. And she would have won.

     This woman would take effort. On both their parts. He wanted nothing more than to stare at her every minute of every day. To learn her movements, admire her grace and beauty, and climb inside her very being. A Free-Folk woman would understand. These women of the South did not.

     Tormund brought his fantasies of her everywhere.  He never shared them with anyone else, just telegraphed them to Brienne whenever he got the chance. Thoughts of her permeated his entire existence. He thought of her in King Jon’s council, at meetings, among the Free Folk, and especially in his bed at night when all else was asleep. How he would have loved her company: her body, muscled and warm, pressing against his. Her heartbeat, rapidly fluttering against his skin, until she cried out in exquisite pleasure. If only he could get close enough to her to give her that gift.

     Fortunately for him, Tormund was an impulsive being, and his compatriots noticed his infatuation quickly. The Free Folk were generally encouraging, although wary of their leader taking up with a Southron woman. The kneelers however, thought him mad. None of them could appreciate her, and none offered any advice. Most were too busy to notice anyway.

     Ser Davos Seaworth was one of the few Southroners to approve. Since the business with the Red Witch concluded, he was eager to distract himself. And negotiating a romance was a perfect distraction.

     “First off, don’t steal her. She wouldn’t like that,” he had said. “Next, be gentle with her. She’s not used to this. It will take her a while to warm up to the idea.”

     “How could she not be used to havin’ a man stare at her?” Tormund had asked, unbelieving. “She’s the most beautiful woman I ever saw, she must have a different man in her bed ever’ night.”

     “By Southron standards, Brienne is not beautiful,” the knight replied.

      Tormund nearly gasped with surprise. “She’s tall and strong and hearty. What isn’ beautiful ‘bout that?”

     “Southroners like their women meek and small and slender. Brienne is none of these things. And she knows it. And it shames her.”

     “Shames her? She’s got nothin’ to be ashamed of, save those Southron cunts not knowing how t’ treat her.”

     “She will put up as many walls as she can,” Davos warned.

     “And I’ll scale ever’ one of ‘em,” Tormund replied. “I climbed your wall, after all.”

     “These walls will be different. She’s terrified of anyone getting beyond them. You have to be careful, move slowly. Make sure that she wants everything you’re trying to give. And know when she wants it. She might not tell you.”

     “How many’ve you bedded?” Tormund asked.

     “What?”

     “Ye heard me. How many women’ve you had?” Tormund wondered aloud.

     “Only a few, but I grew up in the South, with Southron women. And if Brienne has heard even a fraction of what people say about her, she’s got to be twice as tough as she looks.”

     Tormund had thought on this. But there was no way he was going to give up, not when he felt she needed to be won as much as he needed to win her.


	5. Early Morning Madness

     Confusion racked Brienne’s brain. Here her Lady Sansa was giving her permission- nay- encouraging her to take up with this… wildling. Brienne was not a woman easily scared, but in this she was terrified. How it would have been so much easier to take him on in the battlefield – but in her heart? That was no simple task. Few men had made it even this far, and they’d always disappointed her.

     Too tired to look upon her companions again, Brienne took her supper in her chambers that evening. She supped early as well, hoping to lose herself in a real bed as soon as possible. However, sleep did not come easily. Dreams of curly red hair punctuated each and every hour.

     A pink tinge was just beginning to stain the horizon as she rose. There was no practical reason for her to be up so early, but it was better than trying to fight her subconscious to stay asleep. Not that she’d ever been particularly successful at it anyway.

     After washing her face and changing into her armor, Brienne made her way down to the training yard. She needed to hit something. Now. When overwhelmed, she could always count on a sword in her hand and the dirt under her feet. In this place, her body knew exactly what to do, her heart need only keep up.

     Unaware of the hazel eyes watching her, she squared herself with the dummy. Imagining the movements of her opponent, she prepared her strikes carefully. Left, right, over the head, block to the left. A final spin and a swing over her shoulder, and the dummy’s battered head laid upon the ground. Panting, she looked over to the other end of the yard. He was standing there, stunned, mouth agape, barely breathing. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips: she liked surprising men – warning them that she wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

     Neither said anything for a long while. Brienne returned her practice weapon to the rack, and drank from the skin of cool water she’d brought. He continued his staring. With no one else to judge her, it wasn’t all that unpleasant, being admired. It was actually quite nice, she found.

     “You going to close your mouth anytime soon?” She inquired loudly from the weapons rack. “If you don’t, I imagine you’ll have a mouthful of snow before too long.” Normally she wasn’t so bold, but it was barely light out, and other than her and the wild-haired man, there was no one around.

     His stunned look quickly gave way to hearty knee-slapping laughter. “Ye’ve caught me, lass. Never seen anyone fight quite like you do.”

     “No one does,” Brienne replied, shocked at her sudden immodest candor.

     “Could teach me a thing or two, I’ll say,” he chuckled as he approached the rack and perused the swords stored there. “Not to mention me daughters, when they’re of fightin’ age.”

     _Daughters_. The man had daughters. And _that_ meant… Brienne flushed.

     “Course they’re too young now, but they’d do just fine with someone like you to help train ‘em.” He looked at her from the side, gauging her reactions.

     Brienne swallowed hard, choking a little. “I hear the wildling women are fierce fighters. Why not find one among them? Or their mother, perhaps?” She coughed, after placing a little too much emphasis on the word _mother_.

     “Aye. My wife was a fighter. Died fighting to birth the younger of the two. Now they’ve no woman left to teach them,” he said, with a pang of sadness.

     “I am sorry to hear that, Tormund.” Brienne replied after a pause. She wanted to reach her gloved hand to his, but she was suddenly so out of her depth, that she wasn’t sure what to do.

     “They’ll learn in time. As will I,” he sighed. “I imagine you will, too.” Winking, he sauntered his way back to the Great Hall, breakfast, and the rising sun, this time leaving Brienne standing speechless in the training yard.


	6. Tea; No Milk

     Winter had come with a vengeance. Coming from the South, Brienne had never known cold like this. Snow was an uncommon occurrence on the Sapphire Isles, and even then it didn’t bite like this. Shivering, she had ripped herself from her bed, longing to find somewhere warmer, or at the very least move enough to get her blood flowing again. Once she swathed herself in every blanket, cloak and shawl she could find in her quarters, she made her way downstairs in an attempt to find some hot water for tea. Or at least something to warm her from the inside.

     A fire had been stoked in the kitchen; its light flickering through the hallways. Brienne was startled to find a hulking figure sitting before the fireplace – Tormund. Her first instinct was to pad away softly, so as not to disturb him, but there was a kettle heating nearby.

     “Ye can come in,” grumbled the man, without looking behind him.

     “How did you know it was me?” Brienne asked, surprised. The wildling man turned his head to look.

     “I didn’, but I could hear someone comin’ in.” Shifting, he gestured to the empty space beside him and laughed. “I’ve never seen someone look so ridiculous.”

     Brienne flushed, but made her way to the indicated seat. “I’ve never been so cold before in my life.”

     “You Southroners don’t know the meaning of cold,” he chuckled. “This is warm compared to what I’m used to.”

     “I’ve never been this far North before, my home was never this cold, winter or summer,” Brienne shivered.

     “Ye must’ve been pretty far South to stay that warm,” he drank from his skin, then passed it to her. She muttered her thanks, and took a sip.

     “Gods! What the seven hells is that?” she spat.

     “Sour goat’s milk. Helps keep ye warm.” He said with a smile.

     “I’ll stay with tea,” Brienne replied, trying to get the taste out of her mouth.

     “Tea’ll help, but won’t do as good as that,” he grinned, taking another swig. “Besides, ye’re dressed all wrong.”

     “What?” asked Brienne, baffled. “I’m wearing everything I have!”

    “Aye, but ye’re doin’ it all wrong,” he replied. “Take it off,” without asking, he was tugging at her layers. Brienne blushed, but moved to help him. Perhaps she wasn’t so cold anymore. “Now, ye’ll want the fluffiest on the bottom, it’ll hold the heat in better,” he gently wrapped the thickest blanket around her shoulders, tucking it in at the front. “Keep yer center warm first, then your limbs will feel better.”

    He worked diligently, tucking in layers here and there, his rough fingers brushing her skin. Brienne watched his every move, unsure of how to feel. His bright eyes met hers, full of hope.

     “That’s… much better, thank you.” Brienne said softly, breaking his gaze.

      “Ye’ll do well in the North once ye’re used to the cold,” Tormund returned his attention to poking at the fire. “Ye’re built for it.”

     Brienne scoffed. “I will go wherever Lady Sansa needs me, North or South.”

     “Ye’re certainly devoted to that little girl,” Tormund observed.

     “I made an oath to her mother that I would keep her safe.”

     “Aye. We do that among the Free Folk. Take others’ children as our own when they’ve nowhere else to turn,” he pulled the kettle from the hearth and poured a mugful for Brienne. “Ye’re a good mother already.”

     “This is different, I’m not her mother…” interjected Brienne, blood rushing to her face.

     “Ye protect her like one. Can only imagine how you’ll be with pups of your own. Fierce. Loyal.” He scattered some leaves onto the steaming mug.

     “I doubt that I will ever bear children,” Brienne replied, taking the warm drink. “And I’ve no intent to marry.” The one sip of goat’s milk had gone to her head, and she couldn’t help but be blunt around him.

     “Why not? Ye’d be wonderful. I’d a stolen ye in a heartbeat if I thought I could,” he confessed. Brienne could hear no shame in his tone, and perhaps a hint of pride?

     “That’s not what I want. Not who I am. I am a warrior above all things.”

     “Never said ye weren’t. Ye can be many things at the same time,” he mused. She could feel his eyes searching her face. What he was hoping to find there, she didn’t know.

     “I am meant to marry a highborn lord, and any chance I had died with the three men my father tried to pair me with.” Although she could feel herself burning from the attention and embarrassment, she sipped at her tea.

     “Then don’t marry a highborn lord. Marry someone you like and bear his children.”

     “That’s not how it’s done in the South,” retorted Brienne.

     “We’re not in the South any more. And King Jon’d do nearly anything ye asked, seein’ as ye returned his sister in one piece.” He had inched closer. Too close. His breath warmed her skin. It was too much to handle.

    “Thank you, ser, for the tea and the conversation, but I must be getting back to my chambers…” She bumbled herself to standing, leaving him at the bench. “Long day tomorrow, protecting Lady Sansa.” Never before had she felt so awkward.

     “Aye,” the wildling smiled gently. “I enjoyed this very much, hopefully we can meet again soon.” Somehow, he understood her discomfort. Somehow, he knew how difficult this was.

     “Perhaps,” Brienne stuttered on her way out. “I might like that.”

     And with a rustle of her garments, and a splash of her tea- she was gone.


	7. Secret Meetings

     Most of her night had been spent agonizing over that strange interaction with Tormund. While she was certainly warm enough, there was little to cool the flush in her cheeks when she thought of what he said – what he did. Did he really see her in that way? Could anyone? The North was certainly different, but she couldn’t fathom anyone seeing her as something desirable. Endless questions plagued her mind. Only when it was nearly dawn did she fall asleep.

     She awoke to Pod frantically knocking at her door. Still in the realms of sleep, she kicked off the blankets and padded to the entrance.

     “What do you want, Pod?” she asked, groggy.

     “It’s nearly midday, milady. We were going to practice in the yard –” Pod started.

     “Seven hells! Is it really that late?” Brienne rushed to her window and was greeted by the harsh winter sunlight.

     “Yes, milady. Sansa’s been looking for you. Seems that Jon – the King – has called a meeting and they both want you there,” he interjected as Brienne ran frantically around the chamber, trying to ready herself.

     “Pod, please tell the Lady Sansa that I will be in the Council chamber presently, soon as I’ve dressed,” muttered Brienne as she pulled on her boots.

     “Yes, milady,” he started off down the hall.

     “Oh, and Pod - ?” Brienne asked after him.

     “Yes, milady?” he returned.

     “We will train an extra hour tonight to make up for my tardiness this morning.”

     Pod’s boyish face lit up in a small grin. “Thank you, milady.”

     Gods, did she feel stupid. But there wasn’t time for her to beat herself bloody over it. No, she’d have to do that later. Now, she needed to make her way to her King and her Lady.

     Upon her arrival in the Council chamber, she was greeted by the sight of Jon Snow, King in the North, sitting at the head of their table. On his right side, his sister, Lady Sansa Stark, smiling, with an empty seat next to her, presumably saved for Brienne. Other fine lords were scattered through the hall. Not every Northern house was represented, only those whom Jon trusted implicitly.

     “Good of you to join us, Lady Brienne,” muttered Jon. Tormund sat to his left, with his usual guileless grin. “Tormund said you might be late, something about a long night?”

     Brienne’s face burned. “I am unused to the cold, your Grace. Please accept my apologies, it will not happen again.”

     “That is most unfortunate,” Sansa smiled sweetly up at her, offering the chair.

     “I swear to the Seven, nothing happened, I just had trouble sleeping because I was so cold…” Brienne stammered, taking her seat.

     “The lady speaks truth,” interjected Tormund. “I taught her how the Free Folk wrap themselves. Nothing more.”

     “It doesn’t matter,” said the King, ending the discussion. “We’ve gathered here to discuss tactics for holding the North against the long winter.”

     Brienne attempted to settle in her seat and listen. It was difficult to concentrate, due to the lack of sleep, and the pressure of Tormund’s gaze. His eyes were warmer now- not as harsh as they once were. Had their conversation had softened him? He was certainly less intimidating, though he still made her uncomfortable. Maybe this was something she could handle, after all.

     She could still feel his eyes boring into her flesh, but it was no longer unpleasant. Of course, her telltale blush was rising from her chest, yet it felt good. Like she was something to be desired. No one had ever looked at her that way before. Thinking about it made her drowsy, or was that the lack of sleep last night? Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach, like she was going to faint or vomit or both.

     A gentle touch brushed her hand, and she jumped back in surprise. Glancing up, she found Tormund smiling shyly. Blood roared deafeningly to her ears. Brienne looked around to find the rest of her comrades shuffling out the door, Sansa bringing up the rear and exiting with a knowing smile.

    “Why’ve they gone?” Brienne asked, confused.

    “We’ve finished for the day,” Tormund replied, brushing her fingers with his before clasping them gently.

     “I thought we had just started,” she confessed, shivering at the feel of his skin against hers.

     “I think ye were a bit distracted,” he smiled, gripping her hand a little tighter. When she didn’t pull away, he brought her knuckles to his lips.

     The kiss was smooth and gentle; the giver savoring every moment. “Why are we still here?”

     Hazel eyes glinted to meet hers, as he disengaged his lips. “The Free Folk’ll be sent to man the Wall. Thought ye might want to say yer good-byes, considerin’ how much ye’ve grown to like me,” he smiled.

     He was leaving.


	8. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome!

     Brienne couldn’t help the tears that stung behind her eyes. “Oh,” she whispered, the butterflies in her stomach turning to stone.

    “Yes, ‘nd I’ve grown very fond of you these past few weeks,” he said hopefully.

     “My place is here with Sansa,” she replied, unable to match his gaze. She hadn’t realized how much she cared until he was already slated to be somewhere else.

     “Aye,” Tormund had still not returned her hand. “But if I were needed ‘ere, Jon’d let me stay,” he said thoughtfully.

     “They’ll need men like you at the wall. You’re a good leader,” Brienne choked.

     “Aye, but there are other men,” he urged.

     Brienne removed her hand to distract from the droplets threatening to spill. “You belong with your people. You should go with them.”

     “But what about yerself?” he asked.

     “There is nothing between us,” Brienne said, flatly. “And even if there were, it would be no excuse to ignore your duty to your people. I’m sorry, Tormund, but we mustn’t…”

     Her voice was shaking, damn it. Her whole being was quivering in despair. For the first time, she’d been wanted, and like so many other times in her life, honor demanded a sacrifice. She straightened in her seat, and finally looked to the man across from her.

     “I think ye’re wrong on tha’ one, lass,” he lifted an eyebrow. “There _is_ somethin’ between us. Ever’one sees it. Tha’s why they’ve left us here.” He laughed: “honestly woman, I thought ye were payin’ some sor’ of attention!”

     She could feel the corners of her lips twitch. “We will have to put aside our desires for the greater good. That is what is demanded of us,” she resolved.

     “What about my daughters, Brienne?” He leaned in towards her, “the Wall’s no place for little girls. They’ll never be safe there, they need to stay here.”

     “They’ll manage…” she interjected.

     “No. One of th’other men will lead the Free Folk to the Wall. Jon needs me. My girls need me. _You_ need me. And gods know how I need you,” he chuckled.

     Brienne stood hastily, but was matched by Tormund.

     “Jon’s said ‘imself tha’ he needs some of us to stay behind. An’ the children, they’re stayin’ close. We’ll train ‘em to fight, Brienne. But I need to know that you want this too,” he reached for her hand again, almost pleading this time.

    “What do you mean?” asked Brienne as he stepped closer to her, studying her fingers.

    “I mean t’ say tha’ I’ll stay ‘ere if ye wan’ me to.”

     “And if I don’t want you to?”

     The giant man sighed. “I migh’ leave with them. But I’d have to leave the girls behind. Would break my heart, if ye didn’t do it first.”

     “What do you want of me?”

     “Now, or in the long term?” he asked, incredulously.

     “What?”

     “Aye, there is an ultimate goal here. I’d love for ye to be mine someday, but today, if ye would want me t’ stay, that’d be enough,” he was standing near her, close enough to hold her. But he didn’t. He somehow knew that she’d need the space.

     Brienne had never been so unsure of herself. Here was a man who _wanted_ to be with her. Not as a soldier, or a bodyguard. But as a woman- a human being. No one had ever wanted her that way before. Part of her wanted to run away as quickly as possible. To disappear completely. And another part, a larger part, wanted to take him in her arms and hold him for as long as she could.

     So she did. His body was warm against hers, and though she didn’t know how this was done, it felt right. A guffaw escaped him at her shy display of affection.

     “I suppose I have an answer then,” he said, his joy evident in his voice as he returned his embrace.

     “Please don’t leave,” Brienne stammered, tears finally falling from her eyes.

     “For you, I’d stay forever,” he pulled back a little. Just far enough that he could look at her and bring his giant hands to her cheeks. She could feel her embarrassment burning beneath his palms, but he somehow thought nothing less of her. “I’m hopin’ ye won’t mind, but I’d very much like to kiss ye, if ye’d let me.”

     Lower lip aquiver, Brienne nodded as more tears streaked her face. He smiled brilliantly: “That’s my girl.”

     Slowly- without moving his hands, he closed the gap between them. Against her tear-dampened lips, his were warm and sure. Firm, but gentle. Something was rising in her chest. Is this what hope felt like? Happiness? Love? Brienne couldn’t know for sure what the terrifying and wonderful experience was called, but she was beginning to like it. Subtly- chastely, his lips moved against hers. Both were cracked from the cold, not that it mattered. It was only Brienne’s second time being kissed. This felt much better than the quick brush from Renly’s lips.

    Both trembling, they parted from one another. Tormund was smiling. Brienne could feel her breath hitch in her throat.

    “That was…”

    “Good,” finished Brienne, causing him to smile even wilder.

    “Thank you, lass. I’m happy to be staying. Especially with you.” He pulled away gently. “I’d better be tellin’ the great lord Jon Snow. He’ll be wantin’ to know.”

     Brienne flushed even deeper. “Please- ”

     “Don’t worry, lass. The kiss stays between us. For now.” He kissed her ruddy cheek before making his exit, grinning at her the whole time.


	9. Friends of Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I'm trying to post every Monday/Tuesday, but this past week has been super busy, and next week will probably be just as complicated. I'm trying to keep ahead on writing this, but I'm not as on top as I'd like to be... Hopefully I'll have more time to write soon!

     The day went by in a daze. Brienne went about her duties as best she could, giddiness nearly overtaking her. Most of the day went unremembered, as she could only focus on the sensation of Tormund’s lips upon hers.

     Sansa, being aware of Tormund’s infatuation, and having invited Brienne to participate, couldn’t help but watch Brienne bumble about with a strange smile (and a vivid blush) on her face. Though she didn’t see what had happened, she made a very educated guess when Podrick knocked Brienne to the ground during their evening practice.

     Pod smiled hopefully: “I think I’m getting better, milady!” He tossed aside his sword, beaming as Brienne only began to understand that she was splayed flat on her ass. Sansa had to hide a chuckle as her sworn sword took advantage of Pod’s naïve hubris, and reversed their fortunes.

     “Not yet, Pod,” Brienne countered, standing over him. The poor boy looked stunned and terrified in addition to the rapidly darkening bruises he was sure to have incurred. Brienne stalked off to return her weapon, the frustration pouring off of her in waves. Pod never knocked her down before. Perhaps he got in a blow or two, but never enough to hurt her pride.

     “Don’t be too hard on him,” Sansa chuckled as Brienne was started from her reverie.

     “I’m sorry to have hurt him, my lady. It seems that I am not as focused as usual.”

     “There’s no need to be so hard on yourself, either,” added Sansa. “What happened with Tormund, Brienne?”

     Brienne sighed. Embarrassed as she was, her feelings had her in the grip of confusion. And she had no idea what to do about it. “He wanted to talk to me after the meeting, is all.”

    “About?” Sansa inquired.

     “Him. Me. Us. The wildlings going to man the Wall.”

     “Yes, and?”

     “He’s asking the King to stay. With me,” Brienne confessed.

     “That’s very sweet of him. I’m sure Jon will say yes,” Sansa replied. Looking into Brienne’s face, she could tell that something more had happened. “And what else?” she asked.

      The telltale blush was rising into Brienne’s cheeks. “He kissed me,” she replied bluntly, looking down at her feet.

     A bright smile lit the younger woman’s face. “And how was it?”

    “How was what?” asked Brienne.

    “The kiss. How did you feel?” Sansa prodded.

     Brienne took a pause to reflect. She still hadn’t completely processed what had happened when their lips met. “It was wonderful. And terrifying. But mostly wonderful.” Sansa clapped her hands with glee. “He’s going to stay Sansa. For me. No one’s ever offered me that before,” Sansa pulled Brienne into an embrace, dragging the taller woman down to her height.

     “I’m so happy for you Brienne!” She cooed in her friend’s ear. Brienne couldn’t help but smile, despite how strange it felt to be held. Though she wished her mind would maintain its usual focus, there was an unexpected sweetness to being love-struck. Like nothing mattered anymore. Because, suddenly, she mattered. Her life was worth something, not for her skills or her intellect, but just because she was herself.

     “He also wants to be here for his daughters,” Brienne added, once she’d partially extricated herself from Sansa’s grip.

     “And how does that make you feel?” asked Sansa.

     “I do not know,” replied Brienne, honestly. “The wall is no place for children right now. They’re safer down here…”

     “And the fact that he has daughters?”

     “Again, I don’t know. I suppose it makes sense,” Brienne mused. “He is older than me, and it is not unusual for men to have had children at his age.” She paused, in thought. “He said that his wife had died laboring with the youngest. That must pain him greatly.”

     Sansa caught Brienne’s eyes. “We all have pain, Brienne. Even you. He’s allowed, and it doesn’t change the way he feels about you. I’m sure of it.”

    “What will I be to them?” Brienne wondered aloud.

    “What do you want to be?”

    “I do not know. This is so new to me. And it’s frightening. I can swing a sword in combat and not think twice, but when it comes to matters of the heart, I know nothing.” Brienne was starting to feel wearied by her confession. Her head hung low and her shoulders slumped. Falling in love was exciting, but utterly exhausting at times. Sansa smiled up at her.

    “Do not worry, Brienne. There isn’t a right way to do this, only what works for you. And it isn’t easy, but you so deserve to be loved.”

     “I just hope that I do not fail in my duties to you, Sansa. I cannot set those aside.”

     “Have you so little faith in yourself? There are more to your duties than my physical protection. You are building a rapport with the wildling leader! You are helping the _entire_ North combine against a common enemy, creating allies and training armies! That is just as important. And you also have a duty to yourself,” added Sansa.

     Bewildered, Brienne looked again at Sansa, whose impassioned speech had left them both a bit unsettled. “My lady-”

     Sansa calmed. “You are important, Brienne. You must know that,” she gave Brienne’s arm a reassuring pat before turning toward her chambers.

     Finally alone, Brienne attempted to process her lady’s words. It was true that if her relationship with Tormund evolved, it could bolster a valuable friendship between the Westerosi and the Free Folk. This was not what Brienne was planning for her life, but when had any of her plans ever worked to her favor? Perhaps it was time to surrender control and see what the gods had in store for her.


	10. An Opened Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! Life gets in the way sometimes...
> 
> Anywho,this one's just a little bit longer than my usual updates to compensate.

     At supper that night, Tormund was nowhere to be seen. To be honest, Brienne missed the slight discomfort brought forth by his gaze. She picked at her food, unable to concentrate on much else. Gods, she wasn’t even that hungry, but it was something to do in his absence. Even without Tormund, there were several pairs of eyes watching Brienne, wondering about her odd behavior. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she sighed and left the hall for her room.

    Striding down the now-familiar hallway, Brienne found herself face-to-face with the object of her distraction as she turned a corner.

    “Miss me, my lady?” He asked, eyes bright and full of mischief.

     Brienne responded with a half-sarcastic grunt. Truth was, she had missed him greatly. Every second away from the warmth of his lips was nearly painful. Yes, the time apart did allow her to process some of what she was feeling, but she wanted more of him.

     Tormund wore a look of false shock. He was very aware of the game they were playing, and was completely invested in it, despite the inexperience of his partner. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve talked the great lord Jon Snow to havin’ me stay…” Brienne shot him a look of pure disgust before he burst into laughter at her expression.

     “Just because I’d like for you to stay does _not_ mean that I missed you,” Brienne lied as she stomped toward her quarters. “And Jon Snow is your king, you should address him as such.”

     “He’s not _my_ king. I didn’ choose him. I serve him for the good of my people,” he replied, following.

    “Isn’t that the same thing?”

     “Not quite.” They had stopped at her bedroom door. “This where you sleep?” he asked.

     “Perhaps,” Brienne replied, not wanting to invite him in, but not wanting him to leave either.

     “Either ye sleep there or ye don’t, lass. It’s that simple,” he continued, laughing. “I’d quite like to see the place where you sleep,” he added.

     To her horror, Brienne could feel herself blushing yet again. Bringing her palm to her cheek, she tried to hide herself as she fumbled with the door to obtain a quick escape.

    “Don’ worry, lass, I won’t invite myself into your bed ‘til ye’re ready to have me.” Spinning round to look at him, she expected a face full of disappointment, but was met with only shy eagerness. He looked so damned sweet this way. Though frightened and unsure, she knew what she wanted. Acting purely on instinct, she pressed her lips against his. With a surprised grumble, Tormund clutched her body close, his tongue daring to probe her rough lips. Flush against each other, Brienne could feel their combined heat rising up through their respective clothing. Her palms moved across his chest, feeling the strength that lay there. She slid one hand behind his head, stroking his wild crimson hair. The feel of it through her fingers was heavenly. Unlike anything she’d ever felt before, she could not pause her exploration for a second.

     Finally, Brienne parted her lips and allowed Tormund in with a soft moan. He pressed himself closer, shoving her against the wall. A foreign hardness at the front of his furred trousers fascinated Brienne. Unable to bring herself to touch it with her hands, she allowed herself enjoy it rubbing against her muscled body. Tormund’s kisses became more exploratory, as he began a pilgrimage down her cheeks and jawline to her neck. Her breath became a series of raspy gasps as his hands caressed her waistline and moved upwards, dangerously close to her breasts. Gods, this felt amazing. Behind her right ear, his lips found and suckled a particularly sensitive patch of skin. As he grazed his teeth over it, a flash of movement to her left caught Brienne’s eye.

     Ser Davos stood a little further down the hallway, staring with great amusement at the couple before him.

     “ _Tormund!_ ” Brienne hissed, roughly pushing him away. Davos laughed gently at Brienne’s embarrassment, and Tormund’s continued nonchalance. 

     “Good evening, my lady,” the knight started, “and you, Tormund.” The wildling man had released Brienne from his grip and turned toward Davos with no hint of shame.

     “And to you, my friend,” Tormund shook his hand, as Brienne stayed frozen in place against the wall. The two men chatted too casually for Brienne’s tastes, and she remained immobile, paralyzed by her thoughts and the absence of Tormund’s touches.

     “It looks as though you two were making the best of the early chills of winter,” commented Davos, glancing from Brienne to Tormund.

    “Aye, got to do my best to help my lady get used to the cold,” Tormund said, in all seriousness.

     “Seems to me you’re doing an excellent job, and I should leave you to it.” Davos chuckled as he walked past, winking at Brienne. “Stay warm, my lady.”

     Brienne sputtered and gaped at the passing knight, blushing in humiliation. Still rooted to the wall beside her door, it was easy for Tormund to resume where he’d left off, smiling gently as he placed his hands on her waist. His kiss was softer this time.

     “Brienne,” her name was a song mumbled against her lips. Instead of continuing his onslaught of kisses, he pulled back to look at her. “There’s nothin’ to be ashamed of. I like you, an’ I want ever’one to know how beautiful I think you are.” Absentmindedly, he looked down, stroking her hip. “I know ye don’ believe me, but it’s true.”

     His eyes flicked back up to meet hers. Their usual hazel had given way to a darker blue-grey color. No one had ever looked at her this way before. It made her feel uncomfortable, scared and utterly out-of-sorts. Every time he was near, her heart would pound harder than any fight she’d ever taken part in. Her stomach did flips and her palms became slick with sweat. She was utterly unsure of how to handle his attention, only that she wanted more of it.

     She slid her hands down to meet Tormund’s. “I am flattered, ser, I really am,” she said, getting lost in those eyes. “But I’ve never done anything like this before…”

     “There isn’t anyone like me,” the ginger wildling smiled with a chuckle.

     “No, I mean…” She couldn’t look at his eyes anymore, she didn’t want to see him react to her confession. “I’ve never attracted a man’s attention before. I’m still a maiden…”

     His great paws moved to cup her face so she was looking at him once more. “A maiden?” he questioned.

     “The Maid of Tarth,” she replied, feeling the familiar stinging behind her eyes.

     “Maid?”

     Chewing on her lip, she could feel the frustration building in her alongside her tears. “A maid, a virgin,” she shouted, a little too loud. “I’ve never lain with a man!” She continued, letting the hot tears finally fall.

     Tormund’s smile faded as he brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “Why?”

     “I am meant to remain a virgin until I wed a highborn lord. I am quite aware that no one would have me willingly, though there are those who would take me regardless,” she sobbed out. Never before had the admission of her attempted rape brought her so much pain. She had never let herself really feel it.

     Strong arms wrapped around her shaking form. Tormund patiently stroked at her hair and laid gentle kisses along her brow and cheeks. “Shhh, no man’ll ever harm you like that again, you hear me?” he spoke. “We’ll cut ‘em down together. If any man ever hurts you, I’ll nail his balls to our mantel.” Slowly and surely, with several strokes and words of encouragement, Brienne calmed. She’d never let a man behind her walls that way before, and was frankly surprised he was still here. Steeling her courage, she met his eyes again, and was faced with nothing but kindness and concern.

     “Thank you ser…” Brienne trailed off, her voice small from crying.

     “Don’t you worry about it,” the flame-haired man replied. “Ye’re safe with me. And I’ll not have ye ‘til ye want me, no matter how long that may be.” Brienne sniffed back a small chortle. “And when ye are ready, I promise you, it’ll be so good. I’ll be good to ye.” He peered back at her watery eyes. “Ye’d best get some rest, but now I know where to find ye.”

     Brienne leant back and opened the door a crack behind her, but never broke eye contact with the man standing before her. Before stepping inside, she brushed her lips to his cheek.


	11. Girls Become Lovers

     He was falling; she could see it. And there was nothing she could do to help. Slipping as the Wall collapsed beneath him; he shouted her name. But she was miles away, and she couldn’t stop the monsters that ravaged at him in her nightmares.

     Before he fell into the icy abyss, Brienne awoke. Slick with her own sweat, she had to find him, though she had no idea where he would be staying.

     Hastily pulling her boots on, she left her chambers to explore. It was barely daylight, so there was every likelihood that he was still fast asleep. She imagined him as a giant red bear, snoring peacefully in his warm den. Though she didn’t know where she was going, her feet carried her swiftly through the halls, as if they somehow had a clue.

     Suddenly she was standing before a large slatted door, with the absolute certainty that he lay on the other side of it. Raising her fist to knock, she was surprised by a light, feminine giggle.

     _There was a girl in there_ , she realized, to her horror. The man who had kissed her so passionately not a few hours before was cozied up with someone else. Cheeks ablaze, Brienne lowered her hand.

     “Don’t make me tickle you, Sigrid!” his gruff voice hollered, as Brienne despaired on the outside of the door. He had another lover. She should have known. Just like with Renly, his heart was truly taken, and he was just being kind. Deciding she would have no more of it, Brienne lifted her chin and started to turn on her heel, as the door before her opened.

     Abruptly, the giggling stopped, and Brienne had a glimpse of what was really happening. Tugging his hand was a little girl, no more than six. Resting on his left hip was a smaller girl, her sleepy face burrowed into his shoulder. Both girls shared their father’s wild red hair, though the older girl’s was slightly smoother.

    “G’morning, Brienne!” Tormund cried, ecstatic to see the tall woman waiting for him. Simultaneous waves of relief and embarrassment washed over Brienne, and her tired lungs were forced into a peal of laughter. The sound brought a genuine smile to Tormund’s lips; he’d never heard her laugh before, and he decided it was among the most beautiful things he’d ever heard. As Brienne calmed herself, Tormund adjusted the child on his hip more comfortably. “I see you’ve found our rooms without any trouble.”

     Brienne’s laughter slowly died down enough for her to speak. “I didn’t know where you were staying, but my instincts were correct, I suppose,” she looked at the children he held so comfortably. “And these must be your daughters?” she asked.

     Tormund’s face grew even brighter. “Aye. This one is Smalla,” he indicated the near-slumbering toddler he was holding. “And this is my eldest, Sigrid.” The taller girl narrowed her eyes slightly, taking Brienne in. “And girls, this is Brienne, a good friend of your papa’s.”

     Cheeks aflame, Brienne nodded to the suspicious child. “May I be of any assistance?” She asked, half hoping that she couldn’t be.

     “Of course! I’d love for yer help gettin’ the girls to their breakfasts then off to lessons and chores,” he effortlessly shifted Smalla for Brienne to hold. She took her new charge delicately, and with the utmost care, as Tormund knelt for Sigrid to climb upon his shoulders. Standing again, he winked to Brienne before gently kissing her cheek. The resulting blush was a sight to behold. “Off we all go then,” he exclaimed as he started striding toward the Great Hall.

     “Don’ mind Smalla, she’s not one for mornings, the little sleepy bear,” remarked Tormund. In truth, Brienne had never held a child this closely before. The warmth and trust radiating from the little body was comforting and unnerving all at once.

     A sigh escaped the babe’s lips as she nuzzled further into Brienne’s neck. Though the child’s voice was small enough that only Brienne could notice, she distinctly heard a single word:

     “Mama.”


	12. A Pleasant Distraction

     Breakfast had been chaos. Between Sigrid’s stares, and Smalla’s slumberous state, Brienne needn’t worry a bit about Tormund, though he was watching her intently.

     He knew she’d had little experience with children, but she was surpassing all his expectations. It was obviously important to her that she make a good impression, and how much she wanted the girls to like her. There was still a lot for her to learn, he observed as she attempted to wake Smalla with little bits of bacon, but she came to motherhood naturally. He smiled and his heart thudded a little harder. Sure, Sigrid would have a difficult time with it, but she was always hard to win over. It didn’t help that she had a vivid recollection of her mother and missed her greatly. But Smalla had taken to Brienne even more quickly than he had. As his youngest awoke to the realization that she had a new friend, both Brienne and Smalla visibly brightened.

     Watching her interact with his progeny with the utmost gentleness and care caused Tormund to imagine their prospective children. Not that he hadn’t thought of them before, but they were one step clearer in his mind. Brienne, swelling with his child would be the most beautiful sight. Her rosy blushes would be all the more frequent, wearing the evidence of their passion. And her hunger for him would be insatiable and evident for all to see.

     Scooping up the littlest girl, Brienne’s blue eyes met his and his heart skipped a beat. Yes, he wanted, _needed_ to make babies with this woman. This world would be so much better with her maternal imprint upon it.

     Once the girls had been fed and packed off to their respective destinations, Tormund found himself following Brienne into the yard to watch her train Podrick. Their matches were usually brief, though quite entertaining. Brienne could best him blindfolded, and the poor boy had so much to learn.

     On this day, however, Brienne was met with a new opponent. Arya Stark had made her miraculous return home. Pod had said Catelyn would be proud, but Brienne couldn’t believe him. He was right of course, but there would be no way of telling her that. But Tormund knew it. And he would believe it enough for the both of them, even if he’d never met this woman.

     Watching the two women fight was exhilarating. Despite their extreme difference in size, they were evenly matched. Each had their own style, and sparred with commitment and intelligence. Their thrusts and parries quickly transformed from a training exercise into a sort of game. When they finally relaxed after each having the other’s sword pointed directly at her throat, their burgeoning friendship was solidified. Tormund grinned. He wanted her now more than ever, though he knew she was not yet ready to have him. No matter, when the time came (and he was sure it would) she would be willing and eager. Today only served as further proof that there was no stopping Brienne.

     He took this opportunity to sidle up to her, standing at the weapons rack. “Seems ye’ve met a good match,” he murmured in her ear. Bristling at his unexpected presence, Brienne turned to meet his eyes.

     “She’s well-trained. Her style is unique. It would be an honor to train her,” replied Brienne, unsentimentally.

      “I look forward to seeing what you teach one another,” he wickedly grinned.

      “Speaking of which,” Brienne interrupted, with a thoughtful look on her face- “We haven’t had the chance to spar. How about it?” A crooked grin lit her face.

      At the sight of his lady so fiercely intrigued, Tormund visibly brightened. He couldn’t help the excitement that coursed through his veins at the thought of such intense physical contact with this woman.

     “Scared to be beaten by a woman?” She asked, reading his delay as trepidation.

     “More like excited,” he replied. “It would be an honor to be beaten by a woman like you.”

     “Well, let’s get on with it,” she said, tossing him a dulled practice sword and squaring him across the yard. They circled one another for a moment, each sizing up their challenge. Tormund surprised himself by striking first, leading a charge that she easily dodged. Turning round, he saw her form slink opposite him. Preparing another strike, he ran toward her, but once again, she avoided his blow. This time, however, she stuck out her foot to trip him, and threw him to the ground. Squirming on his back in discomfort, he looked up to see beautiful sapphire eyes staring down at him.

     “Giving up so soon?” her gruff voice asked with amusement.

     “Just getting started,” he replied, kicking his legs underneath him once again and rolling to stand, blocking her. This time, she charged at him, knowing his balance was precarious, and he could easily be knocked over again. However, he was able to ground himself and stop her advance. Normally, an opponent would have bounced right off of him, but due to her strength and size, they strained against one another in the middle. Their eyes locked in mutual concentration, each trying to gauge the other’s next move.

     Finally, Brienne managed to wedge her hip and shoulder between them and thrust him out of her way. Sword drawn, he looked her square in the eyes. “Ye’re a beautiful fighter, ye know,” he growled in the base of his throat. His pronouncement only fueled her further as she wielded her weapon and brought it crashing into his shoulder.

     “That makes one of us,” she huffed, tossing him backward yet again. “There’s no need to let me win, I am quite capable of fighting you at your best.” Glowering over him, she cut an intimidating figure, which attracted him all the more.

     “I’d be better if I didn’t find you so distracting,” he replied, dropping his sword to the ground and shrugging in an effort to seem peaceable. In response, Brienne paused and dropped her sword.

     “Distracting?” she asked.

     “Your technique is beautiful, and enhances your natural strength and capability,” he offered. Before he could make any move to defend himself, he felt her shoulder in his gut, and his back splayed across the ground.

     “Your propensity toward distraction is a weakness,” she grumbled, pinning him beneath her. Tormund had long ago given up any sort of fight, just to look into her eyes.

     She didn’t realize quite how it looked, her straddling him in the practice yard, holding his arms above his head. It was only when she felt a hardness against her thigh that understanding dawned on her. Blushing furiously, she climbed off of him, and stomped away.

     “Wait! Brienne!” He called out after her. But she was gone.


	13. Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been so long! 
> 
> It's been a hard couple months, between work and shows and relationships and health scares, writing has kind of taken a back seat. 
> 
> But I did have a chapter saved up so I could take a little time writing the next one. If that makes any sense at all.....

     Brienne could feel the heat rising upon her face. This hadn’t been what she’d intended. Though she knew it was an accident, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed at the sudden intimacy they had shared. It was too close, too much like something else, and it made her very uncomfortable.

     Being confronted with his physical desire in something as routine as a sparring match was terrifying. She knew she wasn’t much to look at, but was it possible for her to actually be desired? And doing something normally reserved for men? Never before had she elicited such a strong reaction from a man in doing what she loved. Usually they gaped and jeered at her. It was what she expected.

     Before she knew what she was doing, Sansa’s blue-grey eyes were peering up at her.

     “Everything alright, Brienne?” she asked.

     Hot, angry tears burst from Brienne’s eyes. This was all so new, and so frustrating. Warm arms encircled her.

     “Come, Brienne. Let’s get a hot cup of tea and talk about whatever is bothering you,” Brienne allowed herself to be ushered into Sansa’s chambers, where warm water had been waiting all along. Sansa made a bit of a fuss over Brienne’s tear-stained cheeks, but gave her a little space while preparing the comforting brew. Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Brienne didn’t know what to make of herself or her misery. So rarely had she been invited into such a feminine space, nevermind a conversation like this one.

     Looking up from her work, Sansa ushered the larger woman into a chair. There was no use in trying to make herself comfortable, as there was no possible way for the coming hour to be comforting at all. Sighing to herself, she sank further into her seat.

     “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Brienne,” Sansa offered, along with a warm mug. “It’s perfectly natural-”

      “My lady, I hope you’re not thinking-” interrupted Brienne.

      “Of course not,” replied Sansa with a graceful wave of her hand. “But if it were something you wanted…” The two women’s eyes met – Sansa’s full of hope, Brienne’s full of skepticism.

      “I am supposed to…” Brienne started.

      “Forget about what you’re supposed to do, Brienne,” Sansa started. “The army of the dead could attack at any moment. There is no use in remaining steadfast in every aspect of your duties as heir to Tarth when we could all die tomorrow.” Something surprising had sparked within the young woman. “If you find someone or something that makes you happy, you need to make the best of it, responsibilities be damned!” Her face softened slightly, “You deserve to be loved, Brienne.”

      Brienne looked into her tea, somehow wishing that the mug in her hands contained all the answers. “I’m not sure that- that… he _loves_ me,” she murmured, sipping the hot liquid.

     “I am,” Sansa retorted, looking fiercely at the older woman. “I’ve seen it before. My father looked at my mother that way… They were so happy together.”

     Sadness radiated off the girl in a small wave. Brienne knew it to be there, but hadn’t thought about its cause or purpose before. A corner of her mouth upturned. “He certainly… _wants_ me…”

     A brilliant smile lit Sansa’s face. “Even better!”

     “I just don’t know how any of this works…” Brienne continued.

     “Coupling? It’s quite simple really-”

     “That’s not what I meant!” she cut off. An explanation on the mechanics of lovemaking from her ward was the last thing Brienne wanted. “I just…” she sunk deeper into thought. “I want to make him happy, but I also want what is best for myself.”

     Sansa gently took her hand. “Relax. He knows what he’s doing.” Brienne shot a glare in Sansa’s direction. “Not that I’d know personally. But he does give that impression,” she shrugged.

     “I don’t know if I’m ready for this…” Brienne pondered aloud.

     “When you are, you will. You’ll want nothing else.” Sansa smiled up into her friend’s face.

      Brienne could only hope she was right.


	14. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I promise I haven't forgotten about this. I've been super busy the last couple months, and too stressed to write. But I've had this brewing in my head for a while along with some other ideas and I've finally got some time to get back in the saddle!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

    Tormund wanted to be furious with himself, he really did. He knew that Brienne had been frightened by the way his body wanted her. He would do anything to change that. If she needed space, he would gladly back away for as long as she needed. But he wished he could have apologized the moment he saw the fear flicker over her face. 

    There was no point in going after her right now; not when she’d just taken off like a spooked mare. Was he coming on too strong? Probably. But that was his way. He would be more than willing to go about things  _ her  _ way, if he could only figure out what that way was. Hells, she probably didn’t even know! 

    All he knew was he loved her. And at some point, that would be enough. He had retreated to his chambers. Much as he wanted to work off some steam, he was exhausted. Lying back on his cot, he couldn’t help but go over every possible permutation of their earlier interaction. 

    A knock at his door interrupted his daydreaming. Standing on the threshold was a very nervous Brienne.

    “Brienne… I-” he stammered.

    “Tormund, don’t… I’m sorry. I was frightened - I don’t know how to… to…” She couldn’t seem to finish. Her eyes were pink-rimmed and swollen as though she’d been crying. It suddenly occurred to him that she was out of her depth. She wanted him, but also needed to be true to herself.

    “It’s alright, Brienne,” He started again. “We can go go slow, if ye need to. I jus’ want you. To be with you, even. I think ye’re amazing…” He gave her his best smile.

    “I want you too, Tormund. But I’m afraid of what I’m feeling. And I will need time to… to get used to how new this is. I’ve never wanted anyone like this… and for you to actually want me in return…” Shyly, she looked down at her feet. 

    “Brienne, I’ll wait as long as I have to. Ye’re worth the wait.”

    She blushed shyly. Gods, he loved it when she did that. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen in a woman. 

    “Thank you, Tormund. For understanding. Most people don’t… Especially when they look at me.”

    “Ye’re too beautiful for words, Brienne,” he paused. “‘nd I mean that. These Southroners, they don’ know how to look at ye. But when I see ye fightin’ in the yard, or speakin’ yer mind, it jest makes me love ye more.”

    Brienne looked startled. “Love?”

    “Aye,” he nodded vigorously. “I’ve loved ye since I laid eyes on ye.” Completely unashamed, he continued: “Watchin’ ye with my girls made me all the surer. Ye’re strong, but gentle. Hardy and delicate. Ye’re a mix of so many things rolled into one, an’ I don’ know how ye do it.” He looked down at his boots. “T’others laugh at ye. I know that. Callin’ ye ‘Brienne the Beauty’ but in my eyes, ye are beautiful. Ye’re you.” Finally he looked into her eyes. Even darker than usual, he could feel the depth of emotion he’d elicited from her. “And since I love ye, I’ll wait until ye’re ready. No matter how long that may be.” A smile lit his features as he considered. “I’d love fer tha’ to be righ’ now, but I’ll not go near ye till ye’re good and ready.”

    Through watery eyes, Brienne managed a smile. “Thank you, Tormund. That means a lot.” 

    “Don’ mention it.”

   “And even though I am confused and scared and this is all moving so fast… I think that… Someday I could,” she paused. “Someday very soon, I hope I’ll be able to say the same to you.”

    She’d been afraid he would be disappointed that she didn’t immediately reciprocate, but his face was alight with his happiest grin.

    “I suppose this is good night then,” said Brienne.

    “If ye want,” Tormund shrugged, then looked up hopefully. “Though I’d quite like a good night kiss, if ye’re willin’”

    Chuckling, Brienne leaned in to brush his lips with her own. It was chaste and sweet this time, without as much underlying lust as their earlier exchanges. As she walked down the hall toward her own chambers, it occured to both of them that perhaps she was gaining some confidence. She could stand tall once more.


	15. The Sweetest Dreams

    It was rare that Brienne had a good dream nowadays, but this one was among the best. She could hear the roar of his laughter, the squeals of his daughters. And somewhere, in the distance was the echo of her own. A long forgotten sound that suddenly came to her as effortlessly as breathing. No more forced smiles, she was genuinely happy. A part of this strange little family.

    She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Of course there was her friendship with Sansa, and her camaraderie with the other warriors. But she was wanted for precisely who she was. The last person to love her that way had been her father. Perhaps Renly or Jamie had learned to enjoy her, but it was her strength and skill that directly benefited them. With Tormund, her prowess was just a part of a larger whole.

    A banging on her door interrupted her. Much as she wanted to stay in this sweet, warm place, the pounding was relentless. She groggily got to her feet and answered the door in naught but her night shift.

    Blearily, she looked to the left, then the right and saw no one. But it was when she looked down that she saw the cause of her wakefulness. A tiny smiling ginger girl, who barely came up to her knee.

    She knelt down to see the intruder eye to eye. Looking into that sweet little face, it was difficult to be angry. Hearing a commotion further down the hallway, Brienne scooped the little girl into her arms and was rewarded with a fit of giggles.

    “So sorry fer tha’!” a voice came yelling. “It’ll never happen again-” Tormund came to a stop at her doorstep. “I suppose she did know where to find ye,” he mused. Brienne cocked an eyebrow.

     “I wasn’t expecting to be awakened by a child,” she said, adjusting her grip on the toddler. 

     “She woke early this mornin’ and was hell-bent on findin’ the ‘giant mama’ as she calls ye,” he rubbed at his neck. “I tol’ her ye would be asleep, but she wasn’ havin’ any of it.”

    “It’s no trouble,” Brienne interjected. “I’m not usually one for children, but this one is particularly charming.”

    “She gets that from her old Da, isn’t that righ’ Smalla?” He smiled at his youngest daughter. Brienne could feel herself smiling too. It was almost like she was still in her dream, except she could feel the cold floor beneath her feet, the warmth of the child she held and the thin, roughspun cloth she wore.

    Her night shift! Hells, she was practically naked before this man, holding his child. Her embarrassment caught her off guard and she blushed feverishly. 

    “Apologies for my state of dress, ser. I was not expecting you,” she muttered, quickly handing him the girl and attempting to cover herself with a robe.

    “Nothin’ to worry about. My apologies for my daughter,” the little girl squirmed in his arms. “I’ll keep a better eye on her in the mornings.”

    For a moment they stood. Though he knew she was embarrassed, he appreciated the sight of her in such as simple garment. He would happily wait until she was ready, but it was nice to see her with her guard down.

    Having obviously had enough, Smalla squirmed some more before pointing to Brienne and squealing: “Breffa!”

    Still barely awake, Brienne staggered back a step at the sudden proclamation. “What?” she inquired.

    “I think tha’s Smalla’s way of sayin’ she wants you break our fast with us,” he chuckled. “Would you care to join?”

    “I would, but I should wash and change into something presentable first,” she stammered. “Perhaps I could meet you there?”

    A bright smile lit Tormund’s face. “Aye, that’ll do. Come along, Smalla, we’ve got to give her a few minutes.” He turned toward the dining hall. Over his shoulder Brienne could see Smalla pulling her best pout in hopes that it would speed things along.


End file.
